Riding Straight into a Dark Pit of Despair!
by DanelleSephton
Summary: Isamu wakes to the sound of a rattling subway and finds himself in the grip of a murderous bear and surronded by students of Hope's Peak Academy. Will he and the others escape? Or will they fall into the pits of despair? (SYOC CLOSED)
1. Prolouge 1

Isamu was awoken by a singular, stabbing pain in his head. At first he thought it was just a horrible hangover from some crazy party, but he noted a thin trickle of blood coming from the center of the pain. After a moment of prodding the wound, he decided that it wasn't serious enough to warrant any form of worry, though he was curious as to how he had gotten the wound. It seemed from his position face down on the floor that he had fallen. Why this was the case, he had no idea.

The last thing he could remember was entering a school building, spending sometime there, and meeting… someone. Or was it some ones? A group? Yes, he remembered that much he was meeting a group of people in the school. What was he doing there again? Isamu was a bit shaken up from his sudden change of location, but he was sure he could remember what was going on. All the pieces were in his mind, he just had to put them together. He'd have to start with the physical evidence in front of him. By gaining knowledge on where exactly he was, perhaps he could discover something about how he got there.

Isamu sighed and forced himself to his feet. Thoughts and memories flew through his head as he tried to gain his bearings. He'd have to get the basics of his situation down. To start, he should take in his surroundings. By looking around, Isamu assumed he was in a subway train by the rattling coming from the walls. If he was to be more accurate, he'd say it was one of the storage carts, judging by the lockers and crates all about. There was a single window on the back door that lead out to a small platform. Isamu glanced out briefly, but saw only darkness. It was pitch black, not even the tracks were visible. He found it odd that there were no lights in the tunnel the rain zoomed through, but that was a different mystery in itself.

He saw a door on the other end on the cart, but put it aside for the moment. Before moving forward he should solve the problem at hand. Now that he had a general idea of where he was, he needed to figure out more about how he got there and why someone would bring him to such a place. It would be best to gather whatever he could while he was here so he wouldn't have to back track later. Since he had the scene down, Isamu decided he'd assess the characters involved. He seemed to be the only one in the area, but he hadn't yet explored very far. It would be best to make sure he had all of his facts straight before venturing forward as he had just been quite out of it a few moments ago. Making sure he knew exactly who he was would help him to understand who would want him put in a place like this.

He wondered where he should start with his basic information, just to make sure he wasn't concussed or something. His name was Isamu Wakahisa. He was 19 years old, lived between Tokyo and Osaka at different times in small apartments. He had a particularly boring past that he didn't think affected his current life whatsoever. He had a cat named Nikki and two gold fish named Cher and Sharkira. His birthday was Sept. 14. His life was truly dull. Isamu considered himself to be extraordinarily boring, a standard teenager. He was Isamu Wakahisa, just a normal guy.

"Wait, is that title important too?" he asked himself thoughtfully, "Does it even apply to this situation? I'm not sure, it depends if this has to do with the Academy. I don't really think anyone else would be interested. Unless they want to employ me or something…"

He was thinking out loud again. He hated when he did that, as it normally meant he was falling out of topic. As the SHSL Private Eye, though, it was his job to muse randomly, as that was how he normally figured things out. Falling off the beaten path in an investigation can lead him to new discoveries. A jumbled bit of numbers hidden away, a scrap of aluminum under a bed, a hole in the floor boards, anything could make or break a case. It didn't a particularly clever person to such things, but regardless of the simplicity of his so called "talent". He had received numerous requests over the years with requests for him to join Hope's Peak Acadamy. Technically, he already had a high school education, excluding his senior year during which he had dropped out, and the Academy had jumped all over the second they found out Japanese greatest private detective was up for grabs. He ignored them for months till he was bribed into getting his diploma by an old friend of his from the Toyko PD ("You need a diploma to get a job Mumu!~" were his exact words).

"Ah ha!" he exclaimed, finally solving at least of of the many riddles, "I was going to meet the other students!"

It was freshmen orientation day. He was required to attend as technically it was his first year at the school. Isamu had been dreading it, not being fond of over bearing adults shadowing over him and walking him along hallways. He imagined it would end up very boring, but he was now faced with the obvious fact that it was not.

"Oh well," he sighed to himself, "I think I've successfully digressed enough for now. I think its time to change cars."

He followed his words with action, grabbing a hold of the door to the next car and jumping through.

 **Hey there! I'm Danny. Its been a while since i've done a thing. *sweat drops* stuff will eventually be continued, but for now this will be a thing. A SYOC! So original, right? I've always wanted to try one and i think i'm ready for the challenge. You can send me your ocs through pm, please avoid using reviews if you would please. Anyway I hope to get some good ocs from you all! (Alsothisintroiskindahorribleipromiseinormallywriteprettywelli'mjustabitrustyit'llgetbetter)**

 **Summation Form**

 **Name: (try to keep it reasonable)**

 **Age: (15-19, but that's changable within reason)**

 **Gender: (i'm open to anything, just please no aliens please)**

 **Sexuality: (same)**

 **SHSL/Ultimate: (no canons please)**

 **Height/Weight:**

 **Blood Type:**

 **Appearance:**

 **Clothing:**

 **Personality:**

 **Speech Style: (ie. What do they talk like?)**

 **Likes: (at least three)**

 **Dislikes: (as likes)**

 **Background: (a brief history)**

 **Who would they get along with?:**

 **Who would they not get along with?:**

 **Who would interest them romantically?:**

 **Who would they kill if they had too?:**

 **Would they kill anyone? And why?:**

 **Or are they more likely to be a victim?:**

 **Quirks:**

 **Future Goals:**

 **A few quotes that can help me understand the character:**


	2. Prolouge 2

The next car was just as boring as the first. It seemed to be a kitchen car, complete with a stove and fridge. Pots and pans were hanging from hooks on the ceiling and knives and other cooking utensils were scattered about.

"Huh, that's odd," Isamu mused, "I've never seen a kitchen on a subway. Must be some fancy luxury train or something. Or maybe I'm just behind the times…" He sifted through appliances and such as he drifted off in thought. He found the normal things one would find in a kitchen; seasonings, vegetables, meats, sauces, assorted drinks, etc. The stove top and counters were immaculately cleaned, almost shining. As he looked closer,he realized suddenly that the entire car felt unnaturally clean. The only sign of anyone being in the room was the few drops of blood that had fallen from his face onto the white granite floors. They stood out like a sore thumb against the bright shine of the kitchen. By what he saw, Isamu decided there were a few inferences about this subway that he could draw.

It was probably a new train or at least a new car. It was too orderly, to clean to have been used by anyone, let alone a messy kitchen staff. He wasn't too familiar with chefs, but Isamu found that they tended to be messy and more concerned with their dishes than their cleanliness. It was likely that everything he had examined was completely new, and a brief look back at the car he had just left told him that it was possible the back car was new as well. In that car, the only bit of filth he could see was the small puddle of blood that had gathered while he was unconscious. Upon discovering this, he was positive that the train had to be fresh off the production line. A second discovery told that this was definitely no normal subway. The cars were too wide and long, as well as far too well furnished to be a simple metro. The appliances were professional grade, the walls and floors were made of expensive materials, no responsible company would allow such a well made train be offered to the grimy public for simple transportation. It was more of a luxury train, but obviously underground.

"It doesn't help me much," Isamu mumbled to himself, rubbing at his slightly sore forehead, "But I'm making progress." He hoped he'd make a break through soon, he was starting to get a serious headache.

Isamu sighed to himself as he moved to the open door in front of him. As he approached it, he noticed that instead of leading to a new car, it led to what looked like a buffet bar. Once he was inside, he noted a counter barred his path to the other side. It had the standard buffet, trays upon trays of food covered by a metal roof with heat lamps keeping them fresh. He caught sight of piles upon piles of drumsticks, a wide collection of different kinds of sushi, big bowls of curry, a salad bar, even what looked like a giant piece of meat on the bone! He found it peculiar to find all this fresh food, since it clearly contradicted his previous deductions. If the kitchen was sparkling, how could anyone have made all of this food? He found it unlikely that anyone could have cleaned it after making the food, as it was still piping hot so it couldn't have been made long ago and he didn't think he would have been out long enough for them to have cleaned all of it. Perhaps the food was brought in by an outside source? Prepared before the train set out? It seemed that his investigation was bringing up more questions than answers and it was really pissing him off.

Isamu continued to ponder on his conundrum for a while, simply starring at the food with a blank expression. Somewhere during his daydreaming, his hand had slipped into his pocket and retrieved a small box labeled "Golden Cat Cigarettes". It was a bad habit, and he knew it. He'd been meaning to quit for a while, it was disruptive having to have the thing in his mouth all the time, especially since he was under age and got some strange looks now and then. Its soothing effects were nice, but it was still a hurdle he knew he was going to have to jump at one point.

But he didn't feel in a jumpy mood at the moment, so he reached into another pocket for his lighter. Just as his hand found the hard plastic, Isamu was confronted with a new presence.

"I have put up with assault, kidnapping, teenage hormones, and worse today, young man," the tall man pointed at him as he stomped through the door, "Substance abuse will not be added to that list, thank you!"

His cigarette was pulled from his grip before he could respond. The stranger shoved it in his pocket as he began to scribble furiously at a clip board he pulled out of what seemed like nowhere. Isamu noted a good amount of chalk dust covering his pants and jacket sleeves, even powdering his bright red hair. He was fairly tall and well built, though his clothes hid the muscles Isamu knew were there. He grabbed the death stick out of his hand with great speed and agility, too much for a normal person. Perhaps an athlete, a weight lifter? But his clothes were too stuffy for that. He wore a long blue trench coat over a purple dress shirt and tan slacks. The private eye couldn't see an athlete with a body like that covering up his work.

Fingers were snapped in his face, "Hey! Listen to me when I'm speaking!"

"I'm sure whatever you were blubbering was very important," Isamu ran a hand threw his hair, not bothering to offer any curtesy, "So important, in fact, I will have to implore you to repeat it one more time so that my small, incompetent brain can truly handle your divine message."

"Then as I was saying," he huffed with great zeal, "I have been trying to gather you kids for at least three hours now but you all won't hold the hell still. I was never like this as a teenager, so help me god. I was responsible and I was always on time and kept with the program and- Hey, wait do you mean by 'blubber'?"

 _'God, now I really need a smoke',_ Isamu groaned inwardly, "Forget it, let's just get down to it; do you know where we are?"

"Not really," he sighed, "According to everyone, no one can remember how we were brought here. I've been gathering everyone in the class in the main car. Oh! Speaking of the class…" he went back to his clipboard, "You must be Isamu Wakahisa, Super High School Level Private Eye. I must say, you are much ruder then I pictured."

"Thank you very much. I take pride in my rudeness, it's my finest quality," he smiled, not liking the man's attitude, "But tell me, how do you know my name and title?"

The man paused for a moment as if lost before regaining his composure, "Ah I guess I skipped a step, heh, sorry," an oddly calloused, chalk coated hand was offered, "I am Yuuma Tachibana, graduate of the 75th class of Hope's Peak Academy as the Super High School Level Tutor, but now a days people just call me the SHSL Teacher."

As 'Yuuma' introduced himself, a bing came from both of their wrists. The teacher looked more annoyed than startled as glanced at a black watch on his wrist. He noticed Isamu's confused expression, "When we woke up, they were on all our wrists. I think they're those fancy iSwatches or something like that," he motioned to his wrist, "You should have one too. They ring every time we meet someone new."

Isamu gave the man a look. He was certainly odd, but he saw no reason to mistrust him. Sure enough, he found a thin black band wrapped around his left wrist. Instead of a clock face, the private eye was faced with a screen displaying the words 'Student Mini-ID' along with a small exclamation point in the corner. Pressing the button led to a message appearing on the screen, along with a picture of the man infront of him.

 **Yuuma Tachibana, SHSL Teacher**

Following this message was a collection of useless trivia about the man such as likes, dislikes, height, weight, even blood type. It looked like something straight out of a dating sim and particularly out of place on his wrist.

"Now that introductions are out of the way, please come with me," Yuuma grabbed Isamu's arm before he could argue and started to drag him out of the car, "The rest of the class is waiting and you're the last student on my list. We need to get back before they decide to explore again!"

"H-Hey wait a moment!" Isamu struggled, a new, remarkable kind of anger forming within him, "Why should I just go with you! Unhand me!"

"We don't have time to dally, Isa-kun," he strode forward to the next car, student in tow, "I have been charged by the Headmaster of Hopes Peak Academy to protect you kids with my life if necessary. I'd rather not take that step, though, so you will do as you're told."

"Who gave you permission to call me Isa-kun!?" he growled. This guy was already starting to piss him off. It was bossy guys like him that made Isamu quit the PD back in the day. He hated taking orders, he was perfectly capable of doing his work and living his life on his own, he didn't need police chiefs, snotty bosses, or a SHSL Teacher to tell him what to do.

When they were half way through the other car (a dining car by the look of it), Isamu dug his nails in between the man's knuckles and pressed down. Yuuma let out a surprised scream, releasing him and clutching at his hand, "What the hell was that for?"

"When someone tells you to let them go, you should let them go," Isamu adjusted his coat, "Especially if they've had police training."

"I am trying to help you!" he panted out, gripping his knees.

Isamu ignored him, starting to clear the rest of the car, "I don't need your help. You gave me all the information I needed," he opened the door to the next car, swiftly popping a fresh cigarette into his mouth and lighting it before the teacher could argue, "How many others are there?"

"S-sixteen," Yuuma gasped out as he straighten up, "Jesus Christ that hurt!"

"It was just a pressure point, calm down," Isamu rolled his eyes, "I assume you're planning to follow me until I do as you say, but I will be investigating what I can before I go to the main train. I would suggest you go to them if you really are a Hope's Peak teacher. Students running around like panicked headless chickens will only complicate manners. Unless you consider the job of a teacher as the sole act of bothering someone who obviously fine on their own when there are other people to help."

The teacher was stuck in a shocked silence. He just stared as his student took a long hard drag from his cigarette and left the car, slamming the door behind him.

Isamu entered the next car. It was a passenger seating area, filled with two long red couches, once again much fancier than on a normal subway. Blackness zoomed by outside the windows, just like the last few. The car was otherwise completely empty and completely unimportant to his cause. He was going to move on when Yuuma pushed past him.

"Fine, just make sure you get to the main car at one point," he said as he went by, "I'm going to protect all of you. Don't worry."

Isamu glared after him as he speed through, a renewed skip in his step. He trot off like nothing had happened, leaving Isamu in the dust. Eventually he just shook his head and went on. That man was a mystery for another time. Right now it was time to get moving.

At least this 'Yuuma' character had given him a new lead; he wasn't alone here. 'Sixteen others. Students, apparently. Did this include this strange 'teacher', or were they just composed of his classmates? To many questions were erupting and not enough answers to match them,' Isamu took another drag, 'I need to figure this out but everything is just too confusing. I do have the information, I need but I'm not sure how to move forward. I won't let that pompous moron guide me through, but he might have some grounds with meeting up with the others. What is more important to investigate right now, my classmates or the area…

"H-heh?" a younger man, a boy really, was standing in the next car, side by side with an odd looking women, "Are you the last student?" He was moderately tall, a bit shorter than him and much more delicate looking. He was very mousey looking, almost like a girl. He wore a strange maroon combination between a sweater and hoodie with gray patterns on the front and navy blue slacks. Thick black glasses rested on his nose, drawing attention to his large honey eyes and framing his olive colored hair. His dark clothes looked like they were drowning him in there heaviness. Everything about him reminded Isamu of glass, more like a little old lady than a young teenager.

Isamu pulled his cigarette from his mouth and put it out on a nearby seat cushion, "I'm Isamu Wakahisa. You may call me Isamu. Tell me, any of you have any information about this subway?"

"You're pretty rude, you know. Just barging into someone else's conversation," a woman with an incredible bust size scolded with a flourish, "You should learn some manners if you ever want to be a gentleman." Her chest size was… truly something. I bounced with every flowery movement, she was like something straight out of a cheesy half-baked hentai. Her hair was light green, done up in ponytails, and her eyes were two different colors, green and blue. She'd make any horny otaku droll with lust, but her clothing was oddly sophisticated, a layered top of white and green, a reserved dark green skirt reaching down to her knees, and a shining gold locket hiding in between her gigantic breasts. The only thing he would consider unlady-like was a hair pin shaped like an artist's plate. She had a strange air to her, laced with class and mystery, both traits odd for a high school girl, a denomination Isamu had deemed full of immaturity and tight skirts long ago.

"Are you staring at my boobs?" he heard her say, "I know their glorious, but are you teenage boys' really that desperate for a little skin that you would gawk at my bosom in such a dire situation such as ours? Or do you get off on that kind of thing?"

Isamu sighed lightly, "I apologize, I didn't mean to intrude, ma'am." He was used to snapping response from his work. People going through stress could get pretty snappy, but it didn't really faze him much. "It seems I'm the last one to know anything, and I think it would be helpful for me to be informed."

She didn't seem convinced, "What's your title?"

"I've been told I'm the SHSL Private Eye," he said offhandedly, "Really, though, I find names to tell a lot more about a person than silly titles."

The anime girl brushed a strand of hair from her face with a chuckle, "A real character aren't you? I'll let you know straight off that you aren't my type, darling, but you are certainly charming. I am the one and only Kuroko Mitzushima."

 **Kuroko Mitzushima, SHSL Artist**

He looked up from his watch, "An artist, fitting. I've learned to never do business for them, but I can appreciate a creative mind. Do you have a specialty?"

"A true artist has no specialty, Wakahisa-kun was it?" Kuroko didn't wait for a reply, "I work in life, in nature, in people. I paint what I see, I paint romance, love, lust. I paint true art."

"Ah, I see," Isamu nodded, "That's why I don't work with artists. Too cheesy and deep. No offense."

Kuroko smiled with a nod, "None taken, we are quite interesting people aren't we?" she turned to the pale boy who had been silent for most of the conversation, "Michi-kun, you've been very quiet, why don't you introduce yourself?"

"Ah, um," he hesitated noticeably, "You looked like you were getting along fairly well. I thought it would be rude to intrude."

"I almost forgot you were standing there," Isamu said, turning to him, "You are?"

He smiled sheepishly, "My name is Michi Koide. It's very nice to meet you, Wakahisa-kun."

 **Michi Koide, SHSL Embroider**

"Please feel free to call me by my given name. I have a feeling we will have to become well acquainted soon," Isamu mused, "My grandmother did embroidery when I was young. I found it quite boring though I never gave it a try, so I suppose I can't judge."

"There are actually some quite advanced embroidery methods that can get quite interesting," Michi mentioned awkwardly, "Though I suppose I'm the only one who would think so. You said you were the SHSL Private Eye? That sounds much more interesting."

"Not really," he shrugged, "'Private Eye' really dramatizes my job to be honest. I'm a simple detective, but I was told that specific title was already taken by some anime girl. Another reason why I don't like titles."

"Anime girl?" Kuroko raised a well trimmed eyebrow.

"Bright colored hair, big bust, you know, anime girl," Isamu explained, "Once again, no offense, Kuroko-kun."

The artist flicked her green curls playful, "This SHSL Detective sounds quite lovely. If she's half as charming as you she might just be the one for me~!"

"Ehem, this is all well and good," a voice came from the door to the next car, "But I believe you should get back on topic if you want make have a meaningful conversation."

She was tall, thin, a sharp looking woman. Her entire body was like a razor; heavy edges, strong shoulders, deep black hair perfectly straight tied back in a tight ponytail. Her movements were smooth, her clothes were professional and mature for her age. She wore a dark grey dress shirt, buttoned to the very top, a white lab coat starched stiff, black leggings ending with similarly colored boots. Her eyes were the strangest part about her, a strange, exotic shade of violet, framed by thin black glasses and a constantly cool look about them. She walked forward with a smooth air of authority and grace, each step deliberate and balanced, firm and strong.

"I am Dr. Kazue Hosoo, the SHSL Microbiologist," she firmly gripped Isamu's hand before he could offer it himself, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Detective Wakahisa."

 **Kazue Hosoo, SHSL Microbiologist**

He watched her contemplatively, "Have we met, ma'am?"

"I did a bit of work while I was living in Osaka with the homicide investigation team there," Kazue adjusted her glasses, "I heard of you while you were working the Haruno case. I was assisting with the toxicology report, I was quite impressed with your work."

"Ah the Haruno case…" Isamu nodded, "I remember that, it was quite the case," he noticed the two artisans' confusion, "A school teacher was found dead afterschool in her classroom. She was assumed to have been killed by a sudden heart attack, but I smell something off about it."

"Quite literally, if I recall," the scientist nodded with admiration, "It took a true genius to even guess the victim was killed with tetrodotoxin just by a light ocean smell. Most detectives have never even seen a pufferfish let alone its poison. I wanted to meet you when you finished the investigation, but you were gone before I could reach you. It's a pleasure to finally speak with you."

"You as well," he smiled politely, "But you flatter me too much. I noticed the poison, but my team apprehended the culprit."

Kazue laughed, amused, "Modest, how quaint. I expect you're on the case in regards to our apparent kidnapping."

"I will do my best with what I have, doctor," he gave a soft assurance.

I expect nothing less. But in the mean time, would you like me to do something about your head?" she offered with a smile.

He put a hand to the wound on an impulse, "Oh that. I almost forgot about it. I should be fine, there are more pressing matters to attend to."

"I don't mean to be rude," Michi pointed out, "But that does look pretty bad. Maybe you should let her fix it."

"I'm a tough guy," he said, "I've had worse and I would rather get to investigating. I'm a bit behind after all. Is everyone else awake?"

Kuroko nodded, "There all gathered in the main sitting car. I came back here to look for something I dropped earlier and Michi-kun was kind enough to accompany me."

"I came to make sure Tachibana-senpai was alright," Kazue asserted, "He looked to be in a bit of a panic so I thought I'd help him, but it seemed that he was a bit preoccupied when I saw him going back. Did you meet him, Isamu-kun?"

"He isn't really our teacher is he?" Isamu grunted at the thought.

"It seems so," Michi nodded, "When I saw him, he had a paper with a seating chart for a classroom filled out with all our names. It looked like he had a lesson plan and some other… teachy stuff."

"I don't believe 'teachy' is a word, dear," Kuroko chided warmly.

Michi turned a remarkable shade of scarlet, "Schedules and stuff, you know."

"I understand, Michi-kun," Isamu smiled reassuringly, "You got you point across. I've made up weirder words in case reports. 'Teachy' isn't anything odd," he waited for the few chuckles he knew would come. People generally sought out familiarity and normalcy while in dire situations to help cope, to make them feel less scared. He knew enough from working with trauma victims at crime scenes to know how to handle them. They were all so young here. He was only nineteen himself, but these kids were even younger than him. Not by a whole lot, but it still made the difference to him. Isamu wasn't naturally a protective or even compassionate person, but he did have a heart and he certainly was a human. He would figure out what was going on here and get these and all the other victims out safely, just like he always did.

"I think you should all get back to the main car with the others," he mentioned lightly, "We don't know exactly what's lurking out here, so we have to walk lightly."

"I thought you wanted to investigate the area?" Kazue adjusted her glasses with a curious glance.

He nodded as he walked towards the door, "I do, but I also would like to ensure you all are safe before I do. An old officers' instinct I suppose, but I feel that I should meet with the others regardless."

The trio looked a bit confused by his words of concern, with the exception of Michi who just happy to be included in the conversation. The girls insisted equally in their own ways that they would have been fine on there own (Kazue stating these facts more sternly while Kuroko remained posed and graceful). During they're arguing, however, a sudden loud crash erupted from a different car further down from theirs'.

"What is that!?" Kuroko nearly leapt in place from the scare, her hair dancing about.

Isamu remained calm and stoic, "It didn't sound very good," he slipped a fresh cigarette between his lips but didn't light it, "Stay close behind me. We should check it out."

With that, they followed him out cautiously.

 **Hey guys! Just me. I'm updating on my mobile because of technically difficulties, but I hope no one minds. If your OC wasn't in this chapter don't worry the rest will in the next one. I still have to fill in one more boy and three more girls before my cast is full, so please submit an OC soon! I'd also like to apologize for the wait, along with computer problems I'm generally a very slow writer just because of my style of writing. Once I get going I get a bit better don't worry. Lastly, I just wanna thank everyone who submitted an OC so far. You guys are really creative and I'm glad you want to help me with this project. If you have any comments on my portayal of your characters so far, feel free to drop me a PM at anytime.**

 **Alright I wanna make point of asking question at the end of every chapter to keep in touch with all the readers. Tell me guys, whose your favorite so far (other than your own if you submitted xp)?**


	3. Prolouge 3

**Ugh, sorry about the wait, I got a bit stuck. There's only a few more introductions than we'll get into some real fun. Despite my little issues here and there, I rather enjoyed writing this! It was pretty fun. Wasn't able to check it over well, but I'll get on that later. I got some really interesting OC's, I actually had hopes of finishing all of the introductions here, but time restraints happened. The next one should be out by next week, but don't hold me to it; I have finals this week. I hope you all like this next update!**

 **Question of the Week: Feelings on the updated roster? Any other thoughts?**

The group raced through the cars, Isamu taking the lead. They took no time in getting to the main car, passing through several others with little notice of their surroundings. Within moments they burst into a car full of unfamiliar people centered around a more familiar man.

"Are you alright, Tachibana-sensei?" a young man with white, almost pink hair was by the teacher's side, leaning down slightly with his hands at his side, "Would you like some help?"

"No I am absolutely _fine_ ," Yuuma growled as he dusted off his pants and coat, "And I'd prefer if you used my first name if you don't mind. Strict formality gets too stuffy after a while."

The teacher was seemingly just recovering from a comical fall. Long limbs sprawled out all over the place and a nasty bruise forming on his chin, Yuuma looked absolutely murderous. He pulled himself up from the ground and faced Isamu, "Kind of you to show up, Isa-kun. You took your good sweet time as I expected."

"Don't call me Isa-kun," Isamu glared, "And I am sincerely curious as to how this happened. Can't you see the anticipation oozing from my face?"

"Your sincerity is appreciated," he bit out a smile for his student, "But it's none of your concern."

"My concern is whatever I make it," the detective pointed out. It was slowly dawning on him that this SHSL Teacher might be annoying, but he was also quite fun to play with. Isamu wasn't one to poke fun or mess around with his work, but he saw no harm in pricking the heels of this obnoxiously bossy man. It might do him good to be taken down a few inches by someone cleverer than him, and Isamu was sure he could do the job.

"Excuse me," the teen who had been trying to assist Yuuma spoke up, "Wakahisa-san, was it? You did just join us. Perhaps you should introduce yourself to the group."

"Hmm?" the detective turned to him then took a moment to survey the room. There were about fifteen people, including those he entered with; eight males and eight females. They ranged in sizes, shapes, and ages, though all of them seemed to be teenagers with the exception of Yuuma, who appeared to be in his early twenties by the way he dressed. If he included himself, they totaled sixteen in numbers, just like Yuuma had told him earlier. With such a large group, Isamu decided that getting acquainted with everyone would be in his best interest, so he-

"Konnichiwa, senpai!" a bright, sparkly grabbed his hand before he could make a single move, "I'm your cute, glittery companion character, Asuka Togami the SHSL Lucky Star, sugoi kawaii desu~"

 **Asuka Togami, SHSL Luckster**

Isamu was quite startled by the sudden interaction but tried to remain posed, "Um, It's a pleasure to me-"

"Are you a REAL detective?" Asuka grabbed his arm and hung on like a growth, "You look, like way way way way too young, yeah! And you sound like you're trying to act like a detective more than actually being one. Are you a fan of Sherlock or something, you seem moody enough but your cosplay game is weak if that's what you're trying to pull. Do you have a badge or something?"

Her voice was horribly grating, scratchy, loud. She sounded like gears rusted over but still trying to pump out a stream of gibberish and Isamu could already tell that she was going to get on his nerves. Asuka came across to him as the hyper type, the obnoxiously chipper hyper type to be specific. Her clothes were as peculiar as she was, wearing a jean miniskirt, a neon pink t-shirt, and white ankle pair with pink converse. Her shirt, as if it wasn't bright enough, was coated in glitter and stamped with the words 'Too Hot Fo U'. She was brunet with blonde highlights worn down, and he had a large heart shaped locket and a plastic charm bracelet equally themed.

"I have a badge if you'd like to see it, miss," he rushed the words out of his mouth in order to get a word in before she set off babbling, "I'm only a private detective, so it isn't a police badge. I used to be on the Tokyo PD but I left a few years ago by my own accord." Isamu sighed and reached into his coat. He always kept his badge with him at all times around his neck in case of situations such as this. Normally he would have a gun or a tazer on him, but as he had been planning to go to a school building, he was unarmed.

"Sugoi!" Asuka cried out in wonder as she examined the badge, "This is tots pro! You're soooooo cool! A private eye is so much cooler than a detective. It has more syllables so it must be better!"

"Actually 'detective' has the same amount of syllables as 'private eye'," Yuuma noticeably cringed from where he had been silently watching their exchange.

"Oh who cares," Asuka rolled her eyes and crossed her arms with a pout, "Grammar is so unkawaii."

"If I may," Isamu glared at Yuuma subtly before going back to her, "You said you're a Togami, right? As in the billionaire line of Togamis?"

She looked positively insulted, "I don't need my father's money to be a strong independent character! I am strong and independent all on my own, yeah! I even made it here without their stupid influence. I just need myself to get me by, I'll do fine cause I'm pretty, smart, likable, and lucky! That's why I'm the SHSL Luck Star!"

"Luck Star?" he questioned. It certainly didn't sound like any title he had heard of yet, "Do you perhaps mean to say that you are a Luckster?"

"Luckster is such a boring title!" she giggled, mood flipping quickly, "Like, who would want to put that on a resume? I'm a Luck Star! That title has more pop and power, it suits a strong woman like me much better, yeah?"

"Of course, miss," Isamu nodded half heartedly. He felt like should could easily be talking all day if he let her, "Have you introduced yourself to all the others already?"

"Yeah yeah! How could I let someone go without knowing about my sugoi presence, desu kawaii?" Asuka smiled widely, then frowned suddenly, "Actually, that Embroider guy ran away when I was talking to him... I think he was afraid of the coffee table behind me, cause he looked straight forward with a creeped out look. It was the only thing behind me and he couldn't have been afraid of me, right? Maybe I should go say hi again and I can help him get over his coffeetablephobia."

Isamu couldn't believe his luck, "I'm sure Michi would appreciate it. You should go help him."

"Bye, bye, senpai~!" she skipped off towards Michi, who had faded into a corner with Kuroko and girl carrying what looked like a sketchbook. He felt a bit bad about dumping this girl on the gentle embroider, but he had work to do, people to meet, and Isamu was sure Kuroko would be strong enough to keep the poor boy safe.

"Quite the strange one, she is," a strange girl suddenly appeared by his side, "She is as flighty as the ficklest faeries of Frond Forest!" Her hair was sea foam green, dotted with little yellow feathers and tied into a messy ponytail to the side, and her eyes were a purplish shade of blue. She wore a dark blue dress with coarse golden lace around the bottom and like colored chains tied around her waist and wrists. She had a heavy looking burlap tote that she carried on her shoulder with amazing ease. From the bag, Isamu spotted strange vials filled with liquids and powders sticking out along with a few black covered books and herbs tied up with twine.

"She seems like an interesting character," Isamu nodded noncommittally. He shouldn't gossip about other students, he figured. It might get him on someone's bad side. "I'm Isamu Wakahisa, SHSL Private Eye. And you are?"

The girl giggled with a poppy voice, "Greetings mortal! I and my spirits of the great expanses have been taking note of your powers over humanities lowest mental form, and we are very impressed with your skills!"

"Um, thanks?" he wasn't quite sure what to take from what he was hearing.

"Yes, your talents with quelling the insufferable beasts tainting our presence are truly welcomed," she smiled with a graceful joy, "I thank you for both myself and on behalf of the spirits around us."

Isamu wasn't sure how to respond. He had met some weird people, put up with some odd eccentric types, but this was a new kind of person. Her words were lofty and fluid, but they felt like a puzzle that he would have to sit down to decipher. Now, Isamu was particularly good at puzzles, but this one might take him a while to figure out.

Suddenly, another figure appeared in front of him as he was contemplating, "I don't mean to intrude, but I believe Miss Yozakura is trying to thank you for dealing our situation so calmly," the boy from before who had been trying to help Yuuma before explained lightly.

"One should not abridge the words gifted from the gods of the beyond," she looked startled, "Tis blasphemy to befuddle the transmitted words delivered from on high!"

"I apologize perversely!" he sparked up, "I meant no insult to your religion, miss. I just thought I would assist Mr. Wakahisa since he's unfamiliar with your values. He looked confused and I would hate for anyone's voice to go unheard because of a lack of understanding."

"I'm sorry, but I am very lost," Isamu laughed awkwardly.

"Huhuhuh," the girl giggled, "Foolish mortal. Were you unaware that you were in the presence of one of Mother Earth's messengers? I am Minako Yozakura, a daughter of the land and the alchemist of the forest."

 **Minako Yozakura, SHSL Alchemist**

"Oh," Isamu let the information sink in, "Ooooohhh, I see now. I haven't worked with a follower of Mother Earth, but I am vaguely familiar with your religion. Forgive me, I meant no insult to your beliefs, I was simply confused."

The Mother Earth cult was a small group, known for living in seclusion and avoiding all modern life in favor of a simple, organic life. The religions followers were individualists, refusing to take part in protests, wars, or anything that would normally mark them as a group with a cause. They were strict vegetarians, raised animals that they would release into the wild, and, most notably, talented with creating natural medicines. Their remedies were sold far and wide, sought out to treat cold sores, fever, even some cancer symptoms.

Minako nodded, sated, "Do not fear, our Mother is a merciful one, and her followers take after her gentle nature."

"I thank you, miss," the private eye bowed lightly before turning to the pale boy, "I have to thank you as well, mister…"

"Kichiro Hashimoto," the boy bowed so low he could have touched his toes, "But please, don't lower yourself to my level. You can just call me Kichiro."

 **Kichiro Hashimoto, SHSL Pianist**

"You shouldn't humble yourself so severely," Isamu pointed out, giving a quick glance to make sure Yuuma wasn't watching before sticking a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it quickly, "I consider everyone here a victim in this case. I'm not lowering myself to anyone."

"Oh of course!" Kichiro smiled apologetically, "It makes sense for the SHSL Private Eye to be so professional. Can you forgive me for being so presumptuous, Mr. Wakahisa?"

He had such a quiet voice. This Kichiro sounded like he was constantly avoiding putting out any offense. He was subtle in his tone, but despite that, still seemed to hold a distinct air of grace and charm. Kichiro had a delicate look to him, not quite as fragile as Michi, but still similar in shape. He was quite thin and bony, his pale white complexion reminded Isamu of a walking skeleton. It seemed as though his hair had been bleached light gray from what appeared to be an originally red shade. The result was an oddly pinkish hue mixed in to the wavy gray hair he wore barely touching his shoulders. He wore little color; a grey sweater vest with an diamond design, white dress shirt, monotone slacks, black loafers. The only vibrant thing that stood out was a bright pink tie looped loosely around his neck. It was messed up and out of place, looking like a stain on a pristine napkin.

"There is nothing to forgive, Kichiro," Isamu tried to reassure with a smile, "You are far too apologetic."

"Yes, you see, in the green valleys, there are many flowers," Minako giggled offhandly, "But only the buds that raise their heads high to the sun will go on to blossom as bright pretty flowers in their adulthood!"

"Exactly. What she said… I think," the detective nodded with a shrug.

Kichiro chuckled half-heartedly, "I see what you're saying, but I'm sorry to say that's how I've always been. Oh dear, I did it again, didn't I? It seems I am completely incapable of doing anything except make useless melodies."

"If you're the SHSL Pianist, I don't think you should be calling your talent 'useless'," Isamu mused. This guy was really starting to confuse him as much as Minako. At first he thought he was pretty normal, but it was starting to be clear that he was bit of a downer.

"I suppose 'useless' isn't the best word. Fruitless would be better suiting my feeling," the musician shook his head, tie becoming a bit more undone as he did, "Oh please forget I said anything, please. My problems are trivial in comparison to what is going on now. I've caused you to side track, dear me, I hope I haven't been too much of a problem."

"No not at all!" he insisted, "Seriously, is all you do apologize? We've only been talking less than five minutes and you've apologized more than three times."

"Oh my!" Minako put a hand to her mouth, "Are you the SHSL Apologizer, then? Have you been deceiving us this whole time by playing a charade as the SHSL Pianist? Or are you perhaps the SHSL Imposter?!"

The pure confusion on the poor boys face was clear, "No no, Miss Yozakura! I am no such thing, that I can guarantee. I'm just a simple pianist, nothing more nothing less."

"Oooh?" she tilted her head, "But your aura is so alluring. You remind me greatly of one of the water nymphs that hide in the pits of the deepest lakes, afraid to breach the surface for fear of rippling its splendid gleam."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he smiled with a polite bow, "I thank you from the bottom of my heart."

Isamu watched their exchange, "Alright, I should probably get to meet with the others. Thank you both for giving me your time, I'll speak with you later."

"Of course, Mr. Wakahisa," the pianist nodded, "You should get acquainted with everyone before anything else. Please excuse my actions here, I hope to make a better impression as we go along."

"It's really fine," Isamu tried to assert, "I seriously don't even know what you're apologizing for right now."

"Perhaps I should just go," Kichiro sighed, "I'll be around if you need me for anything," he turned to Minako, "Miss, why don't you show him to Mr. Kusunoki? I doubt he'd reveal himself on his own so perhaps you could summon him so he can meet Mr. Wakahisa."

The alchemist jumped, "Oh! I can guide our new companion to Naoko. It would be an honor befitting a goddess," she grabbed Isamu's hand, "Come, I will show you to him!"

Isamu was suddenly being pulled through a confused crowd of people by Minako. Her grip was strong and he couldn't break loose like he had from Yuuma's earlier. He watched Kichiro wave as he was pulled away. Minako was much stronger than she looked, easily clearing the room with little hesitation or compassion for the man she dragged along.

"Naoko-kun!" she called out to a lonely looking boy standing with his arms folded in a corner, "Nnnaaaaoookkkkoooo-kun!"

"Hmm?" the boy didn't look up to them, "Hmmm? Who is this fresh shadow that has entered our presence?"

He was average build, with short black hair curled at its dyed white edges and pale blue eyes. He wore plain blue jeans and a mid-sleeved dress shirt covered by a black vest with white buttons. He had a checkered bowtie and matching sneakers. The boy emanated a cool, conflicted emotion, one of mystery and darkness.

"We do not appreciate stares," he turned to Isamu, "You're examination is unnecessary; we will not pose a threat to you for now."

"For now?" the private eye watched him still, steadying his stance now that Minako had released him.

The boy chuckled, "We've just meet you. And the way you prowl around observing everything tells us you are a man to be feared, no?"

"I wouldn't quite say that much," Isamu shrugged, extending a hand as he extinguished his cigarette under his foot, "I'm Isamu Wakahisa, SHSL Private Eye. And you?"

"We are Naoko Kusunoki," he didn't take the extension, but he did offer a small bow of the head.

 **Naoko Kusunoki, SHSL Spy**

"A pleasure to meet you, Naoko," Isamu said, "I must say, I've never meet anyone in the career of espionage."

"We think that's the point of espionage entirely," Naoko said offhandedly, "You've probably met someone in our field and never even noticed."

Isamu smiled, "Yes, I suppose that's right. Why are you standing so far off from the group, anyway. Isn't a spy supposed to blend into his surroundings?"

"Dear Naoko-kun is not in tune with the spirits of the living around him, Isamu-kun," Minako explained pleasantly before the spy himself could, "Nothing is wrong with such a trait, of course. It's common for those who study the art of cloaking themselves in shadows to focus on their inward soul than in exerting their chakra outward to others."

"And… you lost me again," the detective was really starting to doubt his own skills of perception with every word Minako spoke.

Naoko started fidgeting with his bow tie, "We think she is implying that we are a shy people, which we would partially disagree with. We like friends very much. Not as much as we like candy, but we still like them."

"I hope we can become better acquainted in the future," Isamu agreed, "It seems we might be stuck here for a while and it would be best for us to cooperate as much as possible."

"We agree with your proposal whole heartedly," Naoko nodded, crossing his arms again and looking off into the crowded car, "It seems that you are being summoned by Kuroko, over there."

Naoko pointed off to where the artist he had meet before was waving in Isamu's direction. She was standing with Michi and the other girl he had noticed before in a corner not too far off from the others.

"So she is," Isamu mused, popping a cigarette in his mouth, "I suppose I should see what they want. I will see you both later, then. It was very nice to meet you, Naoko."

The spy nodded as he started adjusting his bow tie again, "You as well, Isamu."

"Farwell, Isamu-kun. I wish you safe travels!" Minako clapped her hands together with a smile.

Isamu decided to clear out with a brief nod to Naoko before Minako started to chatter again. She seemed like a nice girl, but he didn't have time to spend the whole day trying to decipher her dialogue.

"Isamu-san!" Kuroko called out to him once he was a bit closer, "I hope we didn't interrupt something important, we thought you might want to meet Megumi-kun."

"Hello there," the girl holding a sketchbook smile and put out her ink stained hand, "My name is Megumi Yukamura, they call me the SHSL Mangaka."

 **Megumi Yukamura, SHSL Mangaka**

Isamu's heart absolutely stopped. This girl, this woman…. Could she be? Was she _really_? From a distance, he would have never guessed, not in a million years, but now, up close, he could see it. Her hair was caramel brown, tied back in a ponytail, her eyes gray and her skin was lightly tanned. Her hands were gripping tightly to a white sketchbook covered with doodles and sketches. The hands themselves were ink soaked and her nails were painted equally black. She wore a lavender turtle neck with a crimson vest over it and a periwinkle skirt. She had on black leggings and white socks with flats the color of raspberries. Isamu had heard the rumors flying around that there would be a SHSL Mangaka in the SHSL roster when he enrolled, but hadn't thought it would be someone like _Megumi Yukamura_.

She was the poster child for indie manga, the master of gag manga and such pieces. Megumi Yukamura erupted on the art circuit from almost out of nowhere, turning into an overnight sensation on social media for her creative and detailed style of telling brief and clever stories. Her art had been making its rounds for months, causing the internet to erupt in Yukamura fansites and blogs run by fans calling themselves Yukamaniacs, a title Isamu may or may not have been in possession of. He wasn't one to frequent the internet outside of research or case work, but he felt some odd, unexplainable love for her artwork and style. He did consider himself a minor otaku, but Isamu normally limited himself to the occasional mystery manga or horror if he was in the mood, so he was shocked that he had fallen for such a simplistic genre as gag. Yet, here he was, gapping at a teenage girl in the most unprofessional way.

"H-Hello, Miss Megumi, it's an honor, a pleasure," he stumbled out thoughtlessly, "Wakahisa. I'm Isamu Wakahisa, I mean." Isamu made a jerky motion that slightly resembled a handshake.

"Oh, uh," Megumi was startled for a moment before a bit of sweat fell from her forehead, "You aren't a fan are you?" Perhaps she could see the sheer panic on his face, "Don't worry! It's fine, Isamu, was it? I'm just not really used to being noticed yet. Kuroko and Michi tell me you're a private investigator."

"Ahem, yes, yes. I suppose you could call me that," he rubbed at his shoulder and glanced at the other two of the group, "Was there anything else you needed me for? If not then, I should get back to… whatever it was I was doing?"

As he tried to think up a reason to leave (an action made difficult by Kuroko's sudden fit of giggles), a rush of pink entered their awkward conversation. She was fairly small girl, bright colored one as well. Her face donned a bright shade of pink eye shadow and lip gloss, and her shirt matched the embellishments with a glowing pink shirt that fell off of her shoulder and a black skirt. Her blonde hair was tacked up in what seemed like thousands of hair clips. Possibly the most shocking part of her were her stunning pink eyes that couldn't possibly have been natural. They gleamed with enthusiasm and energy like a battery without a limit.

"You too are just too cute together!" she chimed with a voice like thin honey, sweet and loose, "I wonder what kind of match you too would make…"

"Hello, Aimi-kun," Michi whispered a greeting, "Did you get Asuka to leave me alone?"

'Aimi' flipped her hair and nodded, "I told I thought Yuuma-senpai was looking for her. I think she fancies him in a tsundere, poor dear," she turned to Isamu and wordlessly grabbed his cigarette from mouth, "You shouldn't smoke, its unbecoming of a gentleman. Aimi Fukuyo is my name, SHSL Matchmaker is what it says on my resume."

 **Aimi Fukuyo, SHSL Matchmaker**

Isamu's hand was shaken with great power from the small little hand in his, "A pleasure, Miss Aimi. I'm Isamu Wakahisa, SHSL Private Ey-"

"I think you should reintroduce yourself to Megumi-kun," Aimi grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him around to look at the mangaka, "The introduction you offered was sloppy and poor. You want to make a good impression, right? By what you just offered me, you are obviously capable and quite fluent in introductions, so you should repair what you've done."

"What? I-" Isamu was startled. The request was simple enough, but Aimi's iron grip on his arms and Megumi's subtle blush gave him a particular stutter he wasn't aware he had before. He noticed a good portion of the room had gone quiet and was probably staring at them intently.

"Aimi-san, this really isn't necessary," Megumi laughed awkwardly, "His introduction was perfectly fine really-"

"But he could have done so much better! I just want him to try one more time, that's all," the matchmaker smiled, "I can see the whole awkward teen couple thing working out for a bit, but they never last long. And with a personality like yours, Megumi, you need a strong gentleman type to balance your natural gentleness. Isamu-kun here might just be a perfect match if he would just let his balls drop."

"Aimi!" Kuroko cried in a mix of shock and amusement.

"Just get it over with, Isamu," she smiled at him from behind, "Just give a strong, powerful introduction to set in motion the beautiful, passionate love story I can see ahead of you two! I could see the sparks flying, now you must set the fire! Just do it! I can feel deep down inside that you are keeping emotions deeper than just admiration. It's my talent to bring people together I just have that feeling that you and Megumi would just be perfect!"

"I-I-I," he was dying. Isamu was actually dying. His general coolness and grace was out the window, he could practically feel himself quake. Never before had he thought he would be so afraid of a little girl in pink, "L-Listen, Miss Aimi, I-"

The matchmaker shushed him, "Say no more words to me, only to your future lover. You can thank me later. Just name the first born after me, and I'll be fine."

"Isamu-" Michi sounded even more scared than he was.

Megumi seemingly gathered up enough of her inner strength to try and pry Aimi off of him, "There will be no children produced, Aimi, stop it. You're being unreasonable."

"I am trying to give you love, girl."

"You are forcing a man upon me."

"Consider it a gift. This might never happen to you again."

"Are you implying I am incapable of getting love on my own?"

Isamu snapped, having grown far to claustrophobic, stuck in between two squabbling teenage girls. His rage boiled like a kettle, allowing for a truly spontaneous grand eruption of a single roaring phrase, "I AM VERY GAY!"


	4. Prolouge 4

**Heya, sorry for the wait. I recently started watching Supernatural and I must say, I'm hooked. Oh well, I fixed up some minor problems in the last few chapters, but not much change. I'm considering making some art for this story and I'd like to see any that you guys come up with for either you're OC's or just the group in general. Let me know if anyone is interested, it'd love to show off these awesome characters!**

 **Question of the Update: Now that the full rooster is up, who are you most excited to learn more about? Who seems to be the most interesting?**

"I-I-I'm really sorry?" Aimi shrugged as she released her captive, "You don't really come across as someone who swings that way."

Isamu fixed his coat, annoyed, "I'll take that as a compliment. Can we please just forget this ever happened?" He was mortified. All eyes in the car were on him, not a single voice was heard except for his and Aimi's. The matchmaker looked almost as embarrassed as he did, a not so subtle gracing her already pink cheeks. Megumi had a shocked hand to her mouth and she didn't look like she planned on speaking for a while. Everyone else was in a similar lose for words, waiting for the awkwardness to fade. Isamu himself just hoped he could smooth over the situation before anything got out of hand. If he could turn the situation around, then maybe he could get everyone back on topic.

"No, I need to make this up to you. I feel awful," Aimi gained a sudden burst of self assurance, "I can't let this wrong go unchecked, I'd feel horrible if I were to just pull you out of the closet and leave you alone, exposed and weakened. That would just cruel!"

"Cruelty would be continuing this conversation," Isamu insisted, "Really, my sexual preference shouldn't affect what we're going through at all, so the information should be dismissed. Just-"

The matchmaker was having none of his excuses, "I know! I'll set you up with a hot hunk of man that you can't resist! And then my transgressions will be forgiven!"

"W-What!?" he took a step back, "Are you serious? Miss, really just let the topic-"

"Since you seem like a mega tsundere, you need a strong guy with a quiet, patient demeanor to balance you out," she mused, falling into a more comfortable stance, "They need to be a little mysterious to add a bit of pop to your relationship but gentle and caring. Oooh, I'm getting chills just thinking of the chemistry! Do you like blondes? I think you'd like a blonde."

Isamu was lost again. Was she trying to confuse him on purpose? Did she consider it her job to embarrass him? He needed to politely excuse himself from this conversation before it got even farther out of hand. She had too firm of a hold on the situation. They would never get anywhere with her trying to pair him off again.

"Um, Aimi," one of the girls came up to them, "I think you're scaring Megumi."

"Huh?" she stopped and looked from the newcomer to the now shaking mangaka. Megumi kept starring at the two of them with a mix of fear and confusion. She looked like she had just watched a school bus crash into an ASPCA full of puppies that happened to also be on fire.

"Are you alright, miss?" Isamu jumped on the opportunity to get out of Aimi's grip and back in control of the situation, "You seem a bit frazzled. Maybe you should get a drink."

"Ah…" Megumi paused, "Yeah, maybe. I'm sorry, I'm not normally this out of it. Just a bit well, like you said, frazzled. I'm not really sure what just happened."

"Neither am I," Isamu agreed, "Maybe Aimi would take you back to the kitchen to get some water. I'd feel horrible if I left you go by yourself while you're so out of sorts. You don't mind do you, miss?"

The matchmaker took a second of consideration before she abruptly grabbed Megumi's arm and started leading her out, "God, why are all the hot ones gay. Isaumi is my new brOTP, hands down. Don't worry, girl. I got your back."

Once the pair left the car, the crowd slowly fell back into its talkative clamor, though quieter than before. Isamu sighed with renewed relief. He turned to the girl who had approached him earlier, "Thank you very much, miss. You just defused quite the bomb there. I am in your debt."

"Don't mention it," she smiled shyily, "You both looked like you were dying a bit there, so I thought I'd lend a hand," she laced her hands behind her back and gave a small little curtsy, "I'm Suzume Satome. I'm pleased to meet you."

 **Suzume Satome, SHSL Babysitter**

"A babysitter?" the detective acknowledged with a nod, "I can see that."

Suzume tilted her head, "Oh, really?"

"Diving into a fray to help out a practical stranger isn't something most people would do," he explained, "And it certainly takes a brave person to work in childcare, right?"

"I suppose that's fair to say," she giggled lightly, "Though I'd hardly call myself brave."

Isamu smiled politely at the girl standing in front of him, calming himself from the prior stress that had been forming by examining her. Suzume seemed like a nice girl, if not a bit average. She had a sweet voice, calming and smooth, big shadowy green eyes, and brown hair cleanly clipped back. Her attire was laid back, an off-the-shoulder sweater of a mustard color covering a black tank top along. She had on a simple grey skirt and black knee highs with equally colors running shoes. Over all, she was pretty, but in a simple, reserved kind of way. Suzume came across to him as an unassuming do-gooder, and after meeting so many weird, peculiar individuals, she was a nice change of pace.

"You do that a lot, don't you?" she mused, looking him in the eye, "You know its rude to stare at people, especially your elders."

"Elder?" Isamu raised an eyebrow, "Hold old are you exactly? I assumed I was oldest here."

"I'm sixteen," Suzume looked confused, "How old are you?"

The detective slipped a cigarette into his mouth and lit it, "I'm nineteen. I dropped out of high school a year before graduation and had no plans to finish. Hope's Peak sent me a letter after I filled all the application forms saying I had to go to freshmen orientation, but I'm actually a senior."

"Oh!" Suzume was taken aback, "But you're so small!"

"I see were going from my sexuality to my height now," he sighed with a small puff, "Lovely."

Isamu was fairly short, only 5' 3", but he was lean and fairly muscular. His stature never caused him problems with the exception of the rare suspect that decided it would be a good idea to compare the man handcuffing them to a woman, chicken, chihuahua, or, if it was a particularly feisty suspect, all three. Isamu had learned early on that it didn't take astounding heights or monstrous muscles to appear strong. A steady head and a calm composure generally gave him an edge that a hot headed cop couldn't get. It was important to keep a sharp appearance as well, so he was almost always in some kind of pseudo suit. That particular day he was only wearing a grey dress coat with black jeans. He hadn't even bothered to iron a shirt for the occasion; he just threw on a plain t-shirt (this shirt was ironed but not as cleanly as he would have done his dress shirts). Isamu didn't know what had possessed him to grab his badge before leaving his apartment for school, but it dangled from a lanyard on his neck under his coat nonetheless. If he hadn't been going to a school, he probably would have had his gun on him as well, but he doubted it would have helped him much. Overall, Isamu thought himself pretty intimidating even with his less than desirable clothing and short stature.

"I didn't mean to make you feel down, Isamu," Suzume offered cheerfully, "It's just, to be honest, I watch kids that might be taller than you!" she giggled a bit and surprised him by flicking at the top of his head, "And you know your hairs sticking up a bit, right? It's almost like an antennae."

Any less of a man would have melted from the pure sweet honey dripping from her lips. "My hair does that sometimes," he tried to offer an equally charming smile but found it just couldn't compare, "I don't like it, but it just does it," he sighed and let out another puff from his cigarette, "I should probably get to meeting the rest of the class. It's been a pleasure, mis-"

"Hey faggot!" someone pushed themselves in front of the detective, "How long are you going to fuckin' take before you come up with a plan, genius?"

"Um, excuse me?" Isamu couldn't help but flinch. This man was intense, loud, and had horrible breath. It might have just been that he was up in Isamu's face, but by the smell the man probably hadn't brushed his teeth in the morning at least. His clothes were fairly simple, just a red and white jersey with the number fifteen plastered on it and blue sweatpants. His white sneakers were way passed scuffed and were in great need of a replacement. He stood only a few inches taller than Isamu, but he seemed to like hovering condescendingly over his prey, oddly red eyes gleaming with venom. His hair was a pale, but not quite as white as Michi's or Kichiro's. It was obviously blonde, but bordering on platinum. He had a light tan and well toned muscles, clearly showing the body of a dedicated athlete.

Fingers were snapped in his face, "Are you stupid? Everyone keeps saying that you seem like you can take care of this mess, but obviously someone got something wrong, eh? Eh? You just stand there like a fucking statue staring at people. It's so goddamn creepy. Didn't your mama teach you fuckin' manners, pretty boy?"

"Well, by emphasizing and insulting my mother without any provocation or reasoning tells me your mother probably didn't," Isamu groaned in annoyance. It seemed Yuuma was facing a serious threat to his standing as Isamu's least favorite person for the day.

"What did you say about my mom?" the man pushed himself even further into his face, fist grabbing the front of his shirt.

"Ah, and now you're getting defensive about the subject. Way to divert the topic," Isamu causally reached past his grip and took a long drag off to the side, "You know, also, by immediately targeting my sexuality, you're indirectly dragging your own preferences into question. That tells me you're either trying to hide your own sexuality or you want to make up for something you lack in those areas."

He was answered by a sharp, sudden pain in his eye and the feeling of the wound on his forehead opening again. In hind sight, taking an offensive approach to interacting with this stranger was probably not the best course of action, but, taking how he was interacting with him, he certainly seemed to need a few pegs taken off of him.

"Are you all right, Isamu?" oddly enough, it seemed Suzume was the only person coming to his rescue, and she didn't even seem that surprised that he had been clocked upside the head. Even Yuuma just stood with a odd look of distain without doing anything.

"I'm fine," he gingerly touched the bruise, "Who is this guy?"

"This guy," said stranger glared, "Is the greatest man your pathetic eyes will ever see," he crossed his arms with a smug grin, "I'm Haito Utsuji, remember it well!"

 **Haito Utsuji, SHSL Track Star**

"Aren't athletes supposed to be honorable to some degree?" Isamu groaned as he looked at his watch.

Haito stuck his nose up, "Humph. To I look like just some ordinary athlete, you gay faggot? I am the fastest man alive!"

"Really? You don't look Kenyan," the detective said, "Also, if you're calling me a 'gay faggot', would it be considered a double negative? Does that make me straight? If so then I should call my mom, she'll be very pleased."

"Jesus Christ, do you have an off switch?" the runner started to crack his knuckles, "Even that jackass calling himself a teacher had brains enough to shut up after I socked him."

"Actually," Suzume interrupted him with a glare, "I firmly recall him pulling you into a head lock directly after, in which you started sobbing and screaming like an infant."

"S-Shut up!" Haito snapped, "Girls like you should just stay quiet and be pretty. Don't go sticking your cute little nose in places it doesn't need to be."

"Haito-san, leave them alone, okay?" a boy pushed himself in between the two, "You're w-way too pushy. Cut them a break."

He was probably an athlete like Haito, judging by his body shape. He had an average, but had a good amount of muscle. The boy was wearing a causal blue jacket and jeans that were well immaculately clean. His hair was bright red, swept to the side of his face out of his hazel eyes. Overall he looked pretty normal, if not a bit sporty.

The runner turned his attention away from and onto the newcomer, "Stay out of this Kouki. I just gotta put this punk in his place."

"Haito, really, can't you see he obviously doesn't care what you say? You're really just running in circles," he insisted, "You claim to be the best person here, but wouldn't a bigger man just let a topic drop."

"No!" Haito cracked his knuckles, "A superior person should never let a weakling win at anything. They might start to get an ego, god forbid."

The boy sighed to himself and turned away from him, "I'll apologize for him. Haito has a bit of a god complex, just ignore him," he extended a firm hand, "I'm Kouki Murakami. I hope we can get along."

 **Kouki Murakami, SHSL Soccer Player**

"Why are you trying to be cordial with such a pathetic shit stain?" Haito questioned with distain, "He probably doesn't even know what 'cordial' even means. He's just that stupid."

"Cordial," Isamu didn't even flinch, "Adjective. Meaning: 'friendly and affectionate; hospitably warm'. It can also mean 'deeply felt or sincere'. An example of its usage in this form would be: 'Isamu felt a cordial detestation for Haito's insolent posture and visage.'"

Haito looked like he was ready to throw another punch, "Why you little freak-"

"Oh I'm sorry," the detective mocked surprise and turned to Suzume with a giggly whisper, "He probably doesn't even know what 'detestation', 'insolent', 'posture', or 'visage' even mean. He's just that stupid."

"You're really pushing it, you know," Suzume couldn't help but smile wryly.

"You fucker, I'll kill you!" Haito went to grab Isamu's shirt again but the investigator quickly dodged it.

Isamu straightened his coat and nodded to Kouki and Suzume, "I better get going. There are still a few people I need to introduce myself to, but I'll talk to you both later."

"Hey where the fuck do you think you're going, asshole?" Haito was about to charge after him but Isamu could see Kouki grab him by the coat and pulled him back as Suzume offered him a brief wave before going to scold the runner.

The detective sighed and walked away from the squabble. Did he introduce himself to everyone yet? He wasn't quite sure if he'd missed anyone, it seemed he was acquainted with most of the room, but he couldn't help but feel that he was missing something.

Suddenly, a flash of red caught his attention.

Her hair was blonde, tied back in mess, and her skin was lightly tanned. Isamu thought he could make out freckles from where he was looking, but he wasn't quite sure. She looked well built, muscular, but light as well. The girl wore a scarlet vest over a gray shirt, with a black tie and a matching skirt. Her stocking were the same shade as her vest and she had leather black gloves on both hands. The girl stood in a corner, far off from the others. Her eyes were trained to the ground and her arms were wrapped around her chest. She seemed like her mind was drifting, stuck in some far off place away from where they were.

He approached her cautiously. "Hello there, miss," he started with an extended hand, "My name is-"

"Wakahisa, Isamu. The SHSL Private Eye," she didn't raise her eyes, "You arrested me in Barcelona three years ago."

"Huh?" Isamu stopped sharply, confused.

The girl sighed in what seemed like annoyance, "I was getting a collection of rare gemstones for a client from some old bastard, but you set up a trap for me and my crew in the museum. I was convicted and sentenced as an adult and spent six years in prison. If Haito over there hadn't punched you, I might have given you a black eye myself, but you seem bloody and bruised enough without my help."

It took him a moment or two to process what was going on and who exactly he was talking to. Then all at once it came flooding back at once, and understand overtook him.

" _You_ are Haruka Tsukino?" he extinguished his cigarette with little thought, "But I thought you weren't getting bail for at least three more years?"

"You'd be surprised Hope's Peak Academy would do for fresh talent," Haruka smirked, "How are _you_ still walking, Mr. Detective? I'm sure I shot you at least seven times on that roof top."

"What can I say, I have nine lives," Isamu chuckled lightly, like he was meeting an old friend, "And didn't I throw you off a balcony at one point?"

"I land on my feet," she brushed some hair from her face, "Regardless, let's get right to it. Want to be out of this place as soon as possible and I'm sure you're the only one who can solve this mystery. I don't like you or your career, but I am all for getting this over with. Let's just agree to not get in each other's way and pretend we've never met. Sound like a plan?"

Isamu blinked and let a confused expression slip onto his face with a light smile, "I'm sorry, but we've met before? I don't quite recall that, miss…"

"Smooth as ever," Haruka rolled her eyes, "Tsukino. And be careful or I might just get used to being called miss."

 **Haruka Tsukino, SHSL Thief**

"Have you met everyone, yet?" she asked, "I saw your little fiasco with Aimi before. You were quite composed I must say."

"I try, thank you," he puffed slowly, "And I think so. I don't think I'm missing anyone."

"Have you seen Kurosu yet?" the thief crossed her arms, "He said he was going to look at some of the cars ahead of this one to see if there was anything important."

Isamu shrugged, "I don't think I have. Perhaps you could introduce me?"

"Since when have I become your slave, hmmm?" she glared dismissively, "You'll find him, he's hard to miss," Haruka pointed off to a person speaking to Yuuma, "The one with the leather jacket. Have a blast, hot shot." With that she was gone as fast as she had arrived.

"Thanks," Isamu mumbled after her as she walked off. He remembered her case well; he had been called in by a local team, independently, to solve a series of massive robberies. At the time, he would have never pictured that the culprit had been a tiny little street pickpocket breaking in threw windows and roofs. Back then, when Isamu first saw her, she came across as over confident, sly, someone who did what they wanted and didn't think about the results. He knew her past, studied it well, but he believed it was only the present that mattered. Every no name super villain can through some petty sob story to explain their crimes, but that wouldn't change their guilt. In the end, it was Haruka's own team that turned her in; they thought she was working them too hard and wasn't sharing enough of the profits. Her arrest was one of the ones that had always stuck with him throughout the years. It had helped in forming him into who he was today.

He shook his head to himself and sighed. It didn't really matter. Haruka didn't exactly have a squeaky clean background, but neither did he, in all honesty. And if Isamu gave himself a green card, he supposed he could give her a pass for the time being as well.

"Yo, Short Stop," the man that Haruka had pointed out was suddenly addressing him with a hand shake and a grin, "Miss Hot Stuff Tsukino says you wanna meet me. Name's Kurosu Ketsuki. Nice ta meet ya."

 **Kurosu Ketsuki, SHSL Hypnotist**

The hypnotist was reasonably built, taller than Isamu but not toweringly. His hair was light brown, skin was tan, and eyes a golden green color. He had on a black leather jacket over a green shirt, with black jeans accompanied by dangling chains. On his hands were black fingerless gloves and his combat boots were equally shaded.

"I'm a Scorpio," he smiled playfully, noticing his examinations, "I enjoy long walks in the park and moonlit picnics by the ocean."

"Don't let Aimi hear that. She'll make you an eHarm account before you could blink," Isamu shook his hand politely, "I'm Isamu Wakahisa, SHSL Private Eye."

"Ouch, see ya got one ah the weird ones," Kurosu cringed, "Heard tell that there was a SHSL Princess and a Model at one point. Why couldn't we get no professional babes up in here? Though I don't suppose ya woudn't really care bout that, eh, buddy?"

"Today just isn't my day is it?" the detective looked to the gods for relief for a moment before looking back to Kurosu. He was smirking cheerfully in a friendly fashion, much different from most of the pokes at his honestly nonexistent love life.

"Pardon my saying," Isamu crossed his arms, "But you really don't come across as a hypnotist. Most of the ones I know are so obnoxiously controlling I can't talk to them."

"What can I say, I'm a breed all my own," Kurosu laughed, "Though don't get any wrong ideas, I've been told I can be a reasonable douchebag at times. Just comes with the job, suppose."

Isamu couldn't help but smile lightly, "Thanks for the warning, but as long as you don't give me a black eye I think we can get along just fine."

"Haha!" he laughed heartily, pulling up his sleeve quickly to flaunt a nasty bruise in the shape of a hand, "That bastard tried to tear off my hand cause he thought I shook his hand to hard. Haito may have a good grip but so do I," he pointed at Isamu's face briefly, "Ya should really get those checked out. Look pretty nasty."

"I've been meaning to get to it," the investator sighed, "But, as I'm sure you've seen, life has not been my friend these last few minutes."

"I saw ya. Handled it like a pro, though, ya know," Kurosu acknowledged, empathizing his apparent pride in Isamu's stability with a hard jab to the detectives rib cage, "Leavin' a battle with a few cuts an bruises is somethin' to be proud of!"

"Might have to add a broken rib to that list," Isamu doubled over in pain from the blow.

The hypnotist laughed again and helped hoist him up, "Sorry, there, Short Stop. Ya okay?"

"Yes, yes," Isamu took a deep breath and lit another cigarette. He normally wasn't that heavy of a smoker, but between people taking them off of him and the long drags he had been needing to get through his own personal hell, he felt he deserved it, "Now I've met everyone, but I hear you went to explore some of the cars further down."

"Wasn't really much interestin'," Kurosu sighed, "Only the first two cars before this one are open, everythin' else on is blocked off. I even tried ramming the door down but it wouldn't budge. Thought they'd fly off, their all sliding so they don't have hinges, right? But they're like solid walls."

"What other cars are there?" Isamu pressed, interest peaked.

The hypnotist shrugged, "There was another one of these passenger cars. Same layout, ya know? Not much different. The only other one I could get in ta was this… this weird room. I can't think ah the word, god."

"Describe it?" Isamu suggested.

"Big table in the middle, chairs around it," Kurosu closed his eyes, "And a stage at one end with a podium."

"Maybe a conference room?" the detective thought, "Are we sure this is really a subway? This train seems quite unusual."

Why would someone put a conference room on a subway? Why would someone put a kitchen on a subway? Why would someone put _them_ on a subway? If it had been only him that had been kidnapped, Isamu probably could have figured this mystery out sooner. He had a few enemies eccentric enough to do something like this, but none gutsy enough to capture an entire class. He'd seen some weird cases, but this one might just take the cake. Between the strange location and the odd cast of characters presented to him, Isamu felt more lost than he had in a very long time. It took a lot to confuse him, and this was just a bit too far out of his comfort zone.

The detective puffed his cigarette calmly and turned away from Kurosu briefly, "I might investigate myself, if you don't mind. I'm a bit behind my game and I think I should take any edge I can get."

"Haha, yes that would be wise!" Kurosu grinned, "I can show ya if ya want."

"I'd appreciate it," Isamu nodded, "Should we get to it?"

A relaxed air washed over him as they headed to the door. Despite the mess he was in, Isamu was starting to feel like he was getting somewhere. Clues were presenting themselves, no matter how jumbled they happened to be. At least he felt that he was getting onto an honestly twisted path he could follow to some degree. He was still a bit out of it, but Isamu decided to just blame any dizziness on the blood loss and bruised eye. They would fade and he would get a grip on this strange situation. He could do this, it was his job after all. These people were counting on him to find an escape, and if he couldn't solve this mystery he couldn't call himself a private eye.

Isamu was starting to get visions of an exit as puzzle pieces flew about in his mind. As he thought deeply to himself, he barely noticed when a ringing chime sounded from above, causing an abrupt, startled silence.

"What the hell?" Isamu thought he heard Yuuma curse as the teacher went into a defensive stance.

The class was suddenly even quieter than when he jumped out of the metaphorical closet or when Yuuma slammed his face into the floor. No one spoke as a second or two passed after the ringing tune ended before an out of place, singsong voice.

" _Ahem. May I have your attention please? All students are to report to the audience car immediately! Get to it you bastards!"_


	5. Prolouge 5 (END)

**Sorry about the wait on this one, I was in a minor accident and its kinda tough to type. I'm a bit banged up but generally okay. This is kinda shorter than I would have liked, but I'm currently away at a writing camp so I don't have loads of time, but hopefully quality will go up a bit!**

"Everyone stay calm," Yuuma placed himself in the center of the car, looking around the students, "It's probably the police or something. They're coming to find us, see?"

"That isn't the police," Isamu shook his head, brow creasing with worry, "Even if they were using a built in prompter they'd have to be all the way in the front of the train to operate it."

Haruka nodded from the corner she was standing in, "He's right. An entry like that isn't tactical."

"Trained officers would enter through the back and sweep up to front," he agreed, "That way they won't disrupt the suspects operating the train and can get the element of surprise. If they went into the front where the prompter controls would be, they'd risk the culprits shooting off their hostages and jumping ship."

Asuka grabbed hold of the detectives arm suddenly, "Eeeee! Senpai is so so so sugoi! He's so smart, only a super genius could think like that!"

"Um," Michi started hesitantly, "Haruka came to same conclusion too-"

"Isa-kun is def my new fav character," the sparkly luckster continued to clutch to an indifferent Isamu, "He's soooo cool!"

"Maybe we should send someone to scout ahead," Kichiro suggested, "I might not be the best one for the job but I'm sure even I could handle a simple task like that."

"No," Yuuma snapped around quickly with a pointed glare towards the pianist, "You are not going anywhere. We are sticking together, you hear me?"

Kichiro bowed with an apologetic smile, "I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to be a bother, I just we should figure out why we've been asked to go to this 'audience car'?"

"Hey, Short Stop," Kurosu approached Isamu, "Do you think they mean that conference room we was talkin' bout before?"

"It's the only place that fits," the detective nodded and put out his cigarette, "I think the safest way to proceed is to go together."

"But what if it's a trap, genius?" Haito glared venomously, "Did you even think about that?"

"I believe it's unlikely that our captors would lay a trap for us," Kazue smiled slyly, "It would be redundant to snare something you already have captured."

Kouki laughed awkwardly from Haito's side, "That wasn't very reassuring, Kazue."

"It wasn't meant to be," her grin intensified.

"Hmph," Naoko stepped into the conversation, "We see no point in dallying any further. We will investigate this strange message. You may join us if you wish."

With that, the spy was off, determination flowing from his posture as he briskly went up to the door and stepped out.

"W-Wait!" Yuuma chased after him, leaving everyone else in the dust, "You can't just charge off!"

As the teacher slammed the door after him, Megumi and Aimi suddenly entered from the opposite door.

"What's happening?" the mangaka rushed over the Isamu, matchmaker close on her trail.

He sighed and started off towards the door, "Stupidity is happening," Isamu made a motion to the rest of the group, "Everyone, follow me. Stay together."

Isamu turned his back on a few complaints from Haito as he followed Naoko and Yuuma. He didn't check to see if they were trailing him, but the shuffling of feet sounded through the door none the less.

Once they had all filed into the 'audience car', they were greeted with what looked like exactly what Kurosu had described. The table was nearly the full length of the car with multiple chairs neatly arranged around it. At the opposite end from where they were standing was a small elevated stage, with an oak podium sitting in the middle and a thick black curtain behind it.

"This is it, right, Kurosu?" Isamu mused as he looked around the room carefully.

The hypnotist nodded, "Uh huh. After this, there's some passenger cars. The door is behind the curtain."

"What a quaint little stage," Kuroko sauntered in after them, "The office setting takes away a bit of the charge but it still is quite charming for a subway."

"It's… something," Michi nodded quietly from her side, "Why is it here?"

"Isn't that the question of the year," Isamu sighed. Everyone entered after them till the car was filled.

Haruka grabbed one of the rolling cars and plopped down with her feet up, "So, we're here. Where's our bad guy?"

"We see the possibility that coming here could have been a disastrous mistake," Naoko mused knowingly, "This may be a trap."

"It probably is a trap," Isamu agreed as he paced slowly, "But there really is no other place to go. It's better to face what's here with preparation then to just let it stew."

"Boy, stew sure sounds good right now!" a new, high pitched voice called out from somewhere unseen.

"Ah! I'm hearing the voices again!" Asuka cried out with a jump as she latched on to the nearest person, a particularly panicked Michi.

Minako flinched, here bag swinging from her shoulder, "We are being confronted by the powers of the dark gods of pandemonium! They will rain chaos and hellfire down upon us all!"

"Pardon my saying, Miss Yozakura," Kichiro had a pensive look about him, hand on his chin, "But I don't believe that voice is that of a god."

"That's mean, Kichiro-kun!" the voice popped again, "You should show your headmaster some well deserved respect!"

Yuuma stepped forward with a heavy glare, "You aren't Jin Kirigiri. There's no way. Reveal yourself, don't beat around the bush."

"Upupup~," the voice giggled in amusement, "Of course I'm not that loser."

The change was abrupt and sudden. The students parted like the red sea for the new figure in the room. It was small, only going up to Isamu's hip, but rotund like a ball. It had a form similar to a bear, but more cartoonish and plastic. The best way the detective could think to describe it was like a creepy teddy bear. It was split down the middle into two different characters. One side was like a standard children's toy, button eye and all, but the other was much darker. It had an eye shaped like a lightning bolt, a bright blood red, and its fur was a deep black. The toy sat on the podium, feet dangling off and air waving by its side.

"Hello class!" it cried with an eerie grin, "I'm Monokuma, your headmaster and conductor of this train."

"What's a 'Monokuma'?" Kouki questioned, anger rising, "You look like some kind of sadist's play toy."

"I'm a bear, you idiot," 'Monokuma' snapped, "I'm made of half hope and half despair."

"Hope? Despair?" Megumi hesitated.

Aimi stepped up, "What the hell are you talking about? Let us out of here now."

"Sorry. I can't do that," the bear laughed, "As your conductor, I can't let you off till the subway had come to a complete stop at its destination."

"And where is that, exactly?" Isamu asked, expressionless.

Monokuma jumped up to a standing position, "Why, into Despair, of course!"

"What is that supposed to fucking mean, jackass?" Haito screamed at the bear.

"You're riding on the world-famous Osiris Subway!" the toy cheered with apparent glee, "It is barreling down the tracks at breakneck speeds to rush you straight into a bottomless pit of Despair."

"Stop talking in circles and explain what you mean," Kichiro glared with uncharacteristic distain. He seemed to be emanating deep hatred for the bear, something Isamu would have never imagined the previously placid pianist could have been capable of. For someone who came across as such a gentle person, he could certainly be a scary guy.

"Jeez jeez, you guys are always so impatient," Monokuma moaned, "Can't you all just appreciate the effort that has been put into this adventure?"

"Why should we thank you for anything for anything, asshole?" Haito's knuckles were white in a fist, "Let us out of here. What do you even want us to do here anyway? Dance?"

The bear just giggled again, "Of course not, Haito-kun. I only expect a few things from you while you're here."

"And what would that be, exactly?" Isamu took a deep breath and stretched his hand. He really wanted a cigarette again but his pack was already depleting fast and contrary to popular belief, he did actually like his lungs.

Monokuma's grin took on the darker appearance. If it was possible, it spread even wider than it had before. It looked like Isamu had just asked the question it had wanted to here. It looked as joyous as a black and white stuffed bear possibly could. Monokuma leaned a bit forward from where he stood and looked the detective straight in the eye, "I want you to kill each other, obviously!"

Silence over took them. No one moved, no one made a sound. It was like someone had dropped a bomb, it was a deafening kind of quiet. Even Haito and Yuuma were completely still. Shockingly, it was Michi who was the first to break the silence.

"A-Are you serious?" the pale embroider gasped out, jaw loose and gapping, "Y-You can't actually be serious."

"I'm _deadly_ serious, Michi-kun!" Monokuma laughed, "That was a good pun I made right there wasn't it?"

"There's no way we'd do that!" Suzume cried out, joined in by similar outbursts from the others.

"You're crazy!"

"This is bad…"

"No freaking way!"

"Fuck you!"

"What do you have to gain from murder?" Isamu directed at the bear to break the chaos, keeping his voice as steady and calm as he could muster, "What's you motive? Money? Amusement?"

"I told you!" Monokuma said pointedly, "This is a lesson in pure, unadulterated Despair! Here on this subway, you're only task to kill or be killed. Anyone who completes a murder will be allowed to exit the subway as well!"

"Wait, so all we have to do to get out of this shit hole is kill someone?" Kouki asked from a fuming Haito's side.

"Almost," the toy nodded, "But there are some rules. In order for a killer to get out, they need to make it through a class trial!" the bear giggled happily, "I'm sure you all have taken notice of your stylish, handy dandy Student ID's. They are compact, portable, and oh so coooool! If you would all turn them to the 'Regulation' menu, you may go over the rules of this trip."

Isamu was hesitant, but forced himself to get over any trepidation quickly. The situation was quickly blowing out of proportion and he needed to get back on top. With a flick of his finger, the screen on his wrist burst to life, displaying his name and image before going to a list of menus. He ignored the other options and dove right into what Monokuma had said to check.

 **Regulations**

All students are issued a Student ID watch. These are used to monitor and inform student. They must be worn at all times with no exceptions.

Students will be provided with their own dormitories. Sleeping is only permitted after hours in the dormitories. Resting over night anywhere else is strictly prohibited.

Once a murder takes place, a class trial will begin shortly thereafter. Participation is mandatory for all surviving students.

If the killer is exposed during a trial, they alone will be executed.

If the killer is not exposed, the remaining student will be executed.

As a reward, the surviving killer will be forgiven of their crimes and allowed to leave the subway.

A Body Discovery Announcement will play as soon as three or more people discover a body for the first time.

Destroying any property on this subway without permission is strictly prohibited. This included surveillance cameras and monitors.

You are free to investigate this subway at your own discretion. Your actions in this regard are not limited.

Additional school trip rules may be added at the headmaster's discretion.

"By gods…" Minako breathed out, "Is this truly…"

"Real?" Monokuma turned to her, "Of course it is! Why wouldn't it be? The rules are simple, so they shouldn't be that hard to follow. Just play the game as its been put out for you and have a blast!"

"Have a blast?" Yuuma staggered a bit in place, horror taking over his face, "This is insane! Complete madness! You are not a headmaster, you have no say over any of this. Let them go!"

"Nuhuhu, Yuuma-kun," the bear pointed at the teacher, "You see, hear, I _am_ the headmaster of Hope's Peak Academy. That 'Jin Kirigiri' you were going on about doesn't exist! I am in charge and I make the rules."

Yuuma quickly snapped, a new kind of fire in his eyes, "Who the hell are you!?"

"I'm Monokuma! Haven't we been over this already?" the bear yawned, "Oh, also, while we're talking about who people are, you aren't a teacher on my watch, so you have no authority here!"

"H-Huh?" he looked positively enraged, "You can't just do that, it's my title! My job is to protect these students-"

"Here you are a student just as much as anyone else," Monokuma giggled, "You are no longer a SHSL Teacher!"

As Monokuma went on laughing, every ID in the room chimed out with a notification. Upon a brief inspection, Isamu found a message that would have filled him with glee only a few minutes ago:

 **Yuuma Tachibana, SHSL ?**

"You're stupid profiles don't mean anything!" the teacher roared.

"Here they mean everything!" Monokuma remained completely calm, "You are as susceptible to the rules here as the students, Yuuma-kun, so I'd get down off that high horse of yours. You can still try and protect you 'students', if you really want to, but I wouldn't hold your hopes up of getting all fifteen out, though."

"We will all get out of here," Kichiro suddenly asserted, "I can't stand by and let you torment my classmates with such vile messages. No one here will cooperate with your plans, Monokuma."

Several voices were regained, popping up in agreement. There was a brief period filled with cries from the class, with the exception of a still shell-shocked Yuuma. It was a half-hearted rebellion, drowned with uncertainty and pessimism, and Isamu wasn't about to partake when he noticed a more pressing matter.

"Monokuma," the investigator broke the outraged arguments, "Did you say 'fifteen' students? Last I checked, there were sixteen of us in total."

"There's a simple explanation, Isamu-kun," the bear was quick to respond, "There are _wolves_ hiding in sheep's clothing in your group."

"Traitors?" Isamu raised an eyebrow, "What are you talking about?"

"There are students here that don't belong," Monokuma explained, "They were sent here by outside groups that were interested in taking part in this exercise. They placed spies in your ranks for nefarious reasons. Truly diabolical!"

"That's just ridiculous," Aimi scoffed with a nervous flip of her hair, "There can't be a traitor!"

"Why not?" Monokuma questioned knowingly.

Naoko stepped forward before she could respond and answered for her, "Actually, we see that in reality, it is quite likely that there could be a traitor in out midst. We were all placed her unconscious, and we don't remember meeting before arriving here."

"We wouldn't know who is actually a student and who isn't," Megumi noted with abrupt horror, "There… there really might be a traitor."

"There _is_ a traitor," Monokuma insisted, "But even I don't know who was sent here. I'm just the MC for this concert, I don't have control over who performs in the show."

"W-Why would someone put a spy here?!" Kuroko questioned with a slight waver, "What kind of sicko would want to pit kids against each other?"

"It doesn't matter," Yuuma decided suddenly, regaining a confident look on his face, "Traitors or no traitors, I'm getting everyone out of here! There will be no murders, you flee bitten polar bear. Do you hear me? _You will not win!_ "

"Upupup," the bear simply chuckled, "We'll see. I haven't even given out a motive and you're already all fired up!"

Michi hesitated for a moment before speaking up, "Um, motive?"

"Uh huh! Every so often, I will be providing you all with a super duper uber special motive to help you get on with the murdering if I think you're going to slowly," Monokuma was practically dancing on his podium in joy, "In fact, I've left a little gift in all of your rooms, complimentary from the trains conductor!"

"Gifts?" Suzume gulped heavily. The poor girl looked positively faint, leaning heavily against Kazue. The scientist had been stoic through the entire confrontation, but even she looked absolutely startled.

Monokuma nodded happily, "Tactical knife sets for the boys and knitting needles for the girls! I'm sure they'll be put to good use."

"Why needles?" Megumi asked lightly.

"A well placed jab can be deadly, regardless of the tool," Kazue mused, biting her lip, "He's really serious. He wants us to kill each other."

"I'm getting tired of reiterating myself," Monokuma sighed, "I unlocked the dorm cars so you can go check out your rooms. The Night Time hours start at ten o'clock sharp, so get to bed, you bastards!"

And with that, it was gone just as fast as it had come. It left them in a new silence, a new defying silence. The air was different than before, heavier, life a gas had been released and was slowly choking them to death. Like a fly trap quietly drawing them in to smother them. Isamu had been in hostage situations before, both as a negotiator and as a captive, but this was a whole new feeling. It was like the world was crashing around him, like the track the train was riding on was rushing them right into a wall. Isamu felt lost for the umpteenth time that day, but not in the way he had previously felt. It was like something was crushing his chest, a snake coiling around his body and breaking him apart. What was this emotion? Grief? He didn't think he had any left in him. Fear? He knew that feeling was long dead. Or was this what Monokuma had been talking about, soul-bending, heart-wrenching _despair_? Had he already fallen into the trap? He couldn't admit that to himself. Isamu had to pull himself together. He had to protect these people. It was his job after all. He wore a badge to show others that he was there to defend them. He could handle this. He could do this.

"We should go see the rooms Monokuma was talking about," Isamu barely even felt like listening to himself, "It would give us time to collect ourselves."

"Not like we can do anything else," Haruko glared in anger, "What kind of person would want to stick _kids_ in a stinking train and expect them to _slaughter each other?_ "

"I don't want to die…" Michi breathed out, a hitch in his voice, "I really don't want to die."

"You won't die here, Michi!" Kuroko had gotten a grip on his shoulders, "We'll be fine. The police will look for us. We won't be here long. Right Isamu?"

 _Like I would know?_ He sighed inwardly, but forced a hopeful tone to rise into his voice. "I'm sure someone will notice that we're gone. I mean there's sixteen of us here, so unless you're all hermits, I expect your friends and family will miss you."

"Of course!" Kurosu broke in awkwardly to try and break the mood, "Short Stops right. Let's just all go rest and figure this out in the mornin'."

No one really seemed primed to move, but after a few moments of silence, student after student filled out till only two were left in the car.

"Are you just going to stand there wallowing in self pity all day?" Isamu barked at the now former teacher who stood in the center of the car, motion less.

Yuuma remained still, shoulders hunched over and red hair falling into his face. "This will not be the end," venom and anger dripped from his lips as he spat out words that sounded almost like a threat, "I will not let this be an end, no matter what that over stuffed Oreo has to shit out. No one is going to die. I will not fail."

His tone was strange, not like the confident, narcissist Isamu had begun to hate. Yuuma sounded dark, hollow, like a ghost. It was a strange sound, unlike almost anything Isamu had ever heard. The detective could recall a similar sound coming from prisoners awaiting execution, but this was almost even more hopeless. This man that annoyed Isamu to the core had suddenly transformed into a husk like being empty of all energy or emotion, only allowing room for what Isamu could only describe as sheer, unadulterated _loathing_. See the tall man shake in wrath almost made Isamu quiver.

"Go to your room," Yuuma suddenly looked up at him, anger still in his eyes, " _Now_ , Wakahisa."

 _Holy shit,_ the detective flinched, _We need banter. Some witty banter should snap him out of this, right?_

"You know technically, you aren't in charge of me any-"

" _Get the fuck out of this car before I strangle you, brat."_

He bolted out of the room on a reflex, not wanting to already break his promise of avoiding murders at all costs.

 **Question of the Update: Who do you think the first victim will be? Also who do you want for the first Free Time?**


	6. Free Time 1

**This is waaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyy too short. Way way to short. But I've been busy and I didn't want to put out another late update. So this is just the first Free Time Event for now. Enjoy I guess.**

 **Questions: Whose ready for some murder?**

Their rooms were reasonably large. Isamu's room held a bed with cheap-looking black sheets, a night stand, a small washroom, a fold-down desk, and a single plastic chair. The carpets were plain white tile, but the wallpaper was a dark gunmetal gray color with thin black lines running across it diagonally. There was a single window opposite the doorway, thin and long with heavy, probably bullet proof glass. Isamu couldn't help but question the reasoning of having windows in the first place, he couldn't even see the tracks of the subway it was so dark.

Isamu slammed his door behind him as he slipped in, hearing some of the others doing the same outside. The detective groaned loudly as he collapsed into the chair, rubbing a hand over his bloody forehead. He had the _worst_ headache, like a thousand jack hammers were beating on his cerebellum at other worldly speeds. Considering the now increasing flow of blood running down face, Isamu now assumed that he was probably going to need stitches. The wound hadn't seemed that bad before, but in hindsight, walking around with an open wound probably wasn't his brightest idea. Mixed with how fast his heart was pumping blood through his body, it was a wonder he hadn't passed out yet.

He saw bathroom signs at the end of the car when they had fled to their rooms, but he didn't really want to run into anyone at the moment. He was too frazzled to hold any decent conversation. So many things were going wrong he just wasn't sure how to handle himself.

And then there was the issue of Yuuma. The sheer amount of venom and hatred that had come from the now ex-teacher's face was easily the scariest thing he'd seen all day. Isamu had never seen someone snap so suddenly from personality to personality like Yuuma had outside of a mental institution. He went from an annoying asshole to a horror movie villain without a blink of the eye. What he had shown Isamu wasn't just frustration; it was pure, unlimited _rage_ , like a dam gate had burst wide open somewhere deep down inside the other man. The change left the detective absolutely reeling. He understood that Yuuma should be upset, but he had established himself as an obnoxious, stern, oddly protective early on in the evening. The anger and hatred in his eyes was not welcomed, was terrifying, even. Isamu wasn't completely sure what to make of what had happened back at the other car, and for the moment, he was too tired to try and remedy his confusion at the moment.

Instead, the detective simply closed his eyes as fell deeper into the chair. He tried to force his body to relax at least a small bit, shifting into the uncomfortable crevices of the plastic. Isamu knew lying down in bed to sleep wouldn't do much for him, but he could allow himself a short rest to settle himself.

Suddenly, no less than a second after he had gotten into a semi-comfortable position, there was a timid knock at the door.

Isamu couldn't stop himself from jumping up, nearly knocking over the chair and tumbling into the bed. "Who is it?" the detective barked as he approached the door slowly, discovering a small peephole on it and peaking through.

"Just me," Kichiro's face looked directing into the hole in the door, "I apologize for bothering you, Mr. Wakahisa."

The pianist stepped back tentatively as Isamu opened the door. "Did you need something, Kichiro-san?" he placed himself in the center of the doorframe, blocking the interior of the room from his guest's view. Isamu didn't really think Kichiro was there with murderous intent, but with Monokuma's deadly killing game in effect, he felt it would be better to play it safe than to end up sorry.

"Well," Kichiro shrugged, "I know you probably want to rest after… that guy showed up," there was rich distain in his tone before he paused in apparent thought. He regained his calm demeanor quickly, though, with a laugh, and held a small paper bag up to display, "But, I thought you should get that cut treated before it gets infected."

Isamu gave him a studying look, "That's an odd first aid kit, ya know."

"Oh! Sorry," he apologized with a smile, "I couldn't find a real first aid kit so I improvised. Miss Yozakura was very kind in lending me some things. She was going to help but she was a bit nervous with the situation being what it was…"

"I understand," the detective nodded, "I don't blame her for being nervous."

"Of course! I couldn't blame anyone for extreme emotions at a time like this," Kichiro smiled, "Now, would you mind if I came in? I realize I'm not the best to treat your wound, but it seems I am the only one to take up the job for the moment. I'd hate for you to waste your free time that you could be resting in, but I do think it's necessary."

Isamu paused to think on the pianists offer. _He's offering to treat my wound… But can I really hang out around someone like Kichiro? He seems nice enough, but the others might get the wrong idea if he spends the night here… Should I spend time with Kichiro?_

"Oh why not," he finally decided, stepping back in the room and sitting on the bed, "Come on in."

"Let's get right to it then!" Kichiro wasted no time in stepping in. He placed his bag down on the night stand and started emptying it. Soon, Isamu's table was covered with dental floss, a pair of knitting needles, a single sewing needle, small bottles of various colored liquids, napkins, and tape. "If you would let me, I should probably start with examining the cut. It is just a cut, right?"

"I don't think I'm concussed," Isamu shrugged as Kichiro sat down in front of him, "But it's bleeding pretty heavy. Probably needs stitches, but I see you came prepared," he motioned to the tools, "How'd you know to use floss? Most people wouldn't even think to use something like that, but in a pinch its one of the best to use."

Kichiro took a second before answering, stretching long, almost skeletal fingers over the instruments. He slipped a hand up with brush away cotton candy strands from his eyes, a small frown edging onto his face before quickly going back to a light smile. "My brother and I always got into trouble when we were younger. I would always patch him up if he got hurt and he would do the same for me. He was rubbish with a needle though. Too timid around blood to keep a steady hand," the pianist looked at the calluses on his palms briefly before reaching over for one of the vials, "Here, Miss Yozakura told me that this was disinfectant. It isn't labeled but I'm sure she knows what she's doing."

"Minako sure gave you a lot of medicine for one little cut," Isamu said pointedly, "How do you know which is which?"

"She told me what they do, or at least a summary of what they do," he said, pouring a small bit of the gooey blue substance on to the towel.

Isamu sighed and moved aside his hair so Kichiro could clean the wound, "And you memorized all of them?"

"I suppose I have a decent memory," he bit his lip as he wiped away the blood, "Though I'm sure yours is much better than mine, as the SHSL Private Eye. I can't imagine the attention to detail your career requires."

"Not as much as it takes to do yours," Isamu said pleasantly, shrugging off the self-depreciating compliment, "I remember I tried to learn how to play piano once. Never got past Twinkle Twinkle Little Star because I couldn't keep track of all the keys."

"It's nothing but mundane patterns," the pianist set down the towel and thread a length of floss through the sewing needle, "Songs are just a collection of noises and vibrations formed in strings and rhythms. It's really nothing but dots and lines on pages upon pages that make up a mess sounds."

"I'm sure a good portion of sophisticated society would strongly disagree with you," Isamu did his best to quirk an eyebrow, "You really should so pride in your work. Isn't that a big thing with musicians?"

"I suppose," Kichiro chuckled lightly with a noncommittal grin, "My brother always told me that art was meant to do more than please its creator. It was meant to please others, not serve one single individual."

"But how can you put so much effort into something you don't take pride in?" Isamu asked. He knew personally that for a person to do good, quality work they had to give all lot of themselves up to their job. If they didn't enjoy what they did, there work would suffer. He was quite confused as to someone called the SHSL Pianist could speak so lowly of his own work.

Kichiro just sighed at his question, "Forgive my insolence. I've given you a bad impression. I can't apologize enough."

"Really?" Isamu didn't even bother raising his eyebrow, "I think you've apologized plenty. You must have the lowest self esteem of anyone I've ever met."

"I suppose I do," the pianist agreed with a renewed calm, "But if it helps, I really do care about my music! I can't do much in the world on my own, but my music, my useless, silly melodies, they make people happy. They make people smile, laugh, even cry sometimes. I don't understand what makes my strings of sound any better than the thousands of other beats out in the world, but if people enjoy it, who am I deny them what they want?"

Isamu was left silent for a moment. "That's… the single saddest thing I've ever heard."

"Is it?" Kichiro tilted his head slightly.

"Absolutely," Isamu laughed with a light sense of pity, whipping away a trail of blood that had started to form down his face, "You only like what other people like because you want them to 'be happy'. From what I can tell, your entire existence is playing court jester for others amusement. While I can understand want to please others, you _need_ to idolize others. It's the center of your life. Your entire personality. I don't mean to offend you, but I just have to say it. It's kinda my job to read people, and buddy you're an open book."

"Yeah, I know. I've been told things like that in the past," he didn't even blink, just kept that small smile plaster across his face, "Why don't you let me close that cut? Miss Yozakura gave me some pain killer to make it easier."

"I've had worse. I'll be okay," Isamu shrugged and leaned a bit forward for him, "You seem far too okay with being called a push over, which is ironic in itself."

Kichiro held the threaded needle carefully as he went to work, placing the needle steady against skin, "Well if your profile is accurate, then I wouldn't care if you thought I was a polka-dotted pink hippo, right? 'Push over' should be a compliment to me."

The detective chose not to respond, as the pianist pulled dental floss through his skin. His hand movements were quick, getting right to the point. In only a few split-second flicks, Kichiro was cutting away excess string and wiping away some of the blood. A napkin was deftly folded and secured to the wound with tape. He stepped away from his work with a pleased expression.

"That should do for now," he said as he stood up, "Maybe you can get Miss Yozakura or Miss Hosoo to look at it in the morning if either of them are up to it."

"It feels fine. Thank you very much, Kichiro," Isamu lightly felt the bandage, "I'll make it up to you some way or another. We'll work on that push over attitude of yours, for a start."

"We will?" the pianist started packing up the tools.

"It seems like we're going to be stuck here for a while, so why not?" Isamu threw his legs up from the side of the bed and plopped himself down. "After all, it probably best that we all try our best to get along as equals, right? But that doesn't mean you should let the rest of the class think they can boss you around."

Kichiro giggled a bit, as if Isamu had just told a joke. "I'll take your word for it, Mr. Wakahisa. Do I feel obligated to warn you, though, I've been told I'm quite hard to deal with sometimes. You'll probably get sick of me before you make any permanent changes to my general sense of self."

"You doubt my skills of persuasion?" the detective stretched his arms behind his head, "It thought you had better faith in my skills as a SHSL."

"I have nothing _but_ faith in your talent!" Kichiro insisted, "But I have a bad habit of annoying people early on in my relationships with others. My own brother has called me out on it multiple times."

"You mention that brother of yours quite a lot," Isamu said with closed eyes, "Are you really close or something?"

The pianist was suddenly silent. His smile faded and a distant look took its place. "I… I haven't seen him in a long time," Kichiro forced out after a few seconds, "He went his way and I went mine. It… shouldn't be important. I'll stop bringing him up. Goodnight, Isamu-san."

Isamu watched with mild intrigue as he slipped out of the room, only moving once Kichiro was gone to lock his door. _Weird_ , he thought to himself. _He let me poke at everything else I could about him, but his brother seemed to be a breaking point. Just mentioning him seeme to have struck a heavy chord with him. I wonder why… Kichiro is such a calm guy, he really is a push over though. There's definitely something about this guy, but I just can't put my finger on it…_

Out of nowhere there was a ping sounding out through the air…

" _Um… ahem!"_ Was that Monokuma? _"Attention, students! This is a message from Hope's Peak Academy's field trip committee. It is now ten p.m.! We wish you a pleasant respite and sweet dreams!"_

"Was that… a curfew call?" Isamu found himself speaking aloud, "I suppose it would make sense, but it's a bit redundant. Did he really expect us to want to wander about after dropping a bombshell like that?" The detective let himself fall back down into bed, mind wandering from thought to thought, nothing really helpful or even remotely realistic coming to him. He supposed that he was too tired and too annoyed to come up with a decent plan of action. Everything was just too confusing to manage at the time. He needed to stew for a while on the situation, think harder. Isamu was nothing if not resourceful, and he was sure that when his classmates calmed down they could all work together to get a way out of this hell hole.

He reached up and felt at the makeshift bandage on his forehead. Yes, they could definitely be a strong force if they got their acts together. These SHSL levels were a strange bunch, but Isamu was convinced that they were good at heart. They could make it out of this. Isamu leaned back with that thought, a small smile on his lips, and he fell asleep, fully clothed on top of the sheets.


End file.
